Of Beards and Men

It’s November, the month of Thanksgiving and not shaving to show your support for testicular and prostate cancer victims. Fortunately I got a head start on “No Shave November”, I started back in August. Unfortunately the longer my beard gets the more time I have to spend keeping it in line and tamed. The last thing anyone needs is a rogue beard to strangle some innocent passerby. Stranger things have happened, although given how many times a night I wake up with my fiancée’s hair trying to strangle me I think it’s only fair.

I love my beard and I’m lucky to have a partner who loves it just as much. There’s seems to be a real and large percentage of the female population out there who are beard bigots. You know who you are ladies, you’re also likely to insist your man shave his chest, not drink beer with his friends, and check his balls at the bedroom door every night so you can return them to that glass case in your purse; the one that reads “break only in case of conception emergency.” It seems to me that there’s an anti-anything masculine movement going on in America these days. It kind of explains why we have to import Australians for our movie roles. If you’ve ever watched a Foster’s beer commercial you know manhood has a different meaning down under.

There are a few holdouts here in the states though and I’m thankful. There are still a few guys who know about John Wayne and Clint Eastwood, refuse to cry or wear pink, and absolutely refuse to drink light beer. These few, these hardy few Neanderthals ladies, are your last and only hope for finding a real man; since some of you have neutered so many as it were. So this November I propose a toast to men and their beards. Raise one up high for those knuckle draggers out there that still open doors, offer coats, check the locks before bed, and insist on going first into the unknown. It’s not that they think you can’t ladies, just that they care enough to put your own safety and well being above their own.